


is this an unhealthy coping mechanism? Maybe so

by Odium333



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Child Abuse, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Bokuto Koutarou, Gen, Implied dyslexia, Injury, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, hurt/ comfort, implied/ referenced child abuse, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odium333/pseuds/Odium333
Summary: Bokuto fails another maths test and with the crushing pressure applied on him by his overbearing parents he begins to crumble under the weight of his own self deprecation.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	is this an unhealthy coping mechanism? Maybe so

47%. Not good enough. Was scrawled in an angry red pen over the front of his maths test. Another failure.

It wasn’t the first time and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, he had never been good at technical subjects that required actual right answers not opinions with length justification. 

Too much memorisation, not enough reliance on your own emotional capabilities.

Bokuto’s first failed test had been chemistry in his first year but he quickly buckled down on that after a ‘talk’ with his mother that had ended with a swollen cheek and a dictionary’s worth of hateful words his mind was sure to reply when he tried to sleep that night.

He still could barely scrape a B.

His parents tried to be loving. They let him go to volleyball camps and stay out late to meet Kuroo even though that only seemed to be because he was seriously smart. Everyone else managed to pass tests so they were well within their rights as parents cursed with a stupid son to punish each failure.

Their reaction was inevitable yet still the familiar clog of anxiety, of burning self hatred, stuck in his throat and caused his breath to come out in short rasps.

It was a good thing volleyball practice was on today, he had left early to present his failure to his parents, as it meant Akaashi wouldn’t be forced to deal with his pathetic weakness on the train home.

What kind of ace couldn’t even pass a simple maths test? 

_ Are you even a worthy ace? How many times have you let your team down? You bother them. You are more effort than you are worth. _

The hateful part of his mind always grew when he failed and he suddenly grew very aware of every flaw. His hair was too big, practically begging for attention. His nails bitten short as the instinct to bite grew stronger with anxiety and the crumpled test in his shaking hand- a brand of his own stupidity.

That night was awful, he had entered the house with shaking legs and left the next morning with a split lip and fresh promises to be smarter, to be better,  _ to be worth it. _

At school that day he didn’t zone out, even when the words in his text book started to move and shift, he squinted his eyes and read until his brain ached with effort. Tried to force the words to just  _ please  _ stay still.

They went through the test that day in maths, the teacher explaining every question (pointing out every single one of Bokuto’s mistakes in a burning red pen).

By the time the lesson was over, Bokuto felt like crying, his test was a patchwork of green and red ink and his throat bobbing with every breath as he felt himself begin to give into the tendrils of panic.

His heart leapt, a thready rapid rhythm that left his chest feeling so empty and heavy at the same time. He could feel his throat grow tight but he swallowed air around the block.

_ Boys like you, strong, muscular boys, you don’t get to cry. It’s unbefitting. You want to be a crybaby? Do it somewhere else, don’t expect the door to be unlocked for you when you get back though. You can’t manage to hold in some pathetic tears, you can spend the night outside. _

“Bokuto.” A slender hand made contact with his raised shoulder, the thin pale fingers of a setter were easily recognisable. “Are you making your way to volleyball? May I walk with you?”

It was Akaashi. Sweet, smart, perfect Akaashi. His face hadn’t changed from its usual calm but Bokuto knew that concern shone in his eyes.

For someone who seemed so level headed, Akaashi’s eyes were far too emotive. They were the eyes of someone who loved so strongly, loved with their whole heart and soul.

He nodded, feeling his  _ (stupid, ugly) _ , bleached hair bob along with him.

In the changing rooms no one brought up the purpling bruise on his back.

_ His father was strong and taller than him. Two hands made contact with his chest, pushing him back into the wooden table with a heavy thud. _

He saw Konoha watching him, taking in the split lip and the ink stains on his fingertips from frantic late night revision.

Practice was monotonous. Jump, hit a spike, compliment Akaashi when it slapped against the floor on the opposite side of the net. 

Then, he landed badly, ankle rolling over and bringing his body down with a heavy thud that caused a fresh spike of burning pain to spread up his shoulder and knee.

“Bokuto!” He didn’t know whose voice that was. His body hurt too much, throbbing with each spike of pain.

_ So useless. Volleyball is the one thing I can claim to be good at but now I can't even do that. Useless. Burden. My mum was right. I need to get a grip. _

He could feel his breath speed up, not for the first time that day, even as he felt hands guide him into a sitting position.

“‘M sorry, Akaash’. Can’t do it. So useles’. Supposed to be strong, not smart, got to be…” Bokuto cut himself off, mind suddenly shutting down as his breaths grew too desperate for him to speak.

Akaashi put a gentle hand, calloused from years of volleyball, on the ace’s shoulder and squeezed before begging counting.

It was a slow count, the same as heartbeat, each number was said with the same level of deliberateness.

“-23, 24, 25…” he kept his voice low as he rubbed his hand in a slow circular motion on Bokuto’s hand after gently guiding them away from their position yanking grey hair.

By 45 Bokuto was counting alongside, an automatic obedience that often came with the clearing mist of panic.

“Bokuto, are you okay now?”

Yellow eyes widened.

“I’m so, so sorry Akaashi. I didn’t mean to break down. I just- I failed another test and my parents.. my parents aren’t happy and I just- I’m sorry. I’m just.. just so stupid and I let you down  _ again.” _

His words were almost too quick to process but Akaashi knew Bokuto like the back of his own hand. He didn’t have to listen to know what he was saying.

“You aren’t stupid, Bokuto. Failing a test doesn’t make you stupid. I’ve read your english essays before. Everyone's brains are wired differently and that’s fine. I have weaknesses you don’t.”

Bokuto let out an offended gasp as if he was the one that had been slighted.

“Akaashi-“

The setter raised a hand to silence that imminent, self loathing rant.

“You are amazingly sociable. People know to trust you, you can make people laugh and know exactly what to say to motivate the others. Your captain for a reason. Your parents’ words don’t define you, only you get to do that.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
